


Our Last Dance Together

by FaerieBerii



Category: Supernatural
Genre: 80's Music, 80s AU, 90's Music, 90s AU, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Dancing on a Log, Destiel - Freeform, Dirty Dancing, Dirty Dancing - AU, Echo Beach, F/M, George Michael is Sabriel soundtrack, Hopeful Ending, I carried a watermelon, Implied/Referenced Abortion, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Minor Character Death, Morrissey is Destiel soundtrack, POV Alternating, Sabriel - Freeform, Same Old Lang Syne, Underage Castiel (17), Underage Sam (16), line dancing, soundtrack
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-24
Updated: 2020-05-28
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:53:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 5
Words: 15,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24345304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FaerieBerii/pseuds/FaerieBerii
Summary: The year was 1988. Location: Echo Beach.The Winchesters and the Novaks. Two families who never should have met. Yet with a suitcase, a few watermelons, some dirty dancing, and a song about the west, their paths collided. And through the years their worlds would continue to collide in an example of zemblanity for one, serendipity for the other.“When the circumstances are right, everything becomes a dance.”– Lynette Fromme
Relationships: Anna Milton/Jimmy Novak, Castiel/Dean Winchester, Daphne Allen/Castiel, Gabriel/Lucifer (Supernatural), Gabriel/Sam Winchester, Jack Kline/Sam Winchester
Kudos: 5





	1. Guess Who Just Got Back Today

**Author's Note:**

> So I’ve had the idea for this AU for around 6 years now, and it’s been sitting on my computer unfinished since then. I was waiting until it was ~~finished~~ kinda finished to post it, mainly so wouldn’t have another uncompleted work. And also I’d put a lot of research into this work. I mean A LOT of research. It’s quite unhealthy. And from that research comes a very off-the-cuff version of Dirty Dancing. I may be hated for some of the things that happen, and I’m expecting it. 
> 
> Fun factoid: The location I have in mind for what would be Kellerman’s is actually [Whalehead](https://corollaguide.com/whalehead) in Corolla, NC
> 
> [Spotify playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/1Bg7lekuASiLlPlgU2ejr6?si=XKHs82L0TcqEHquTRbUhDQ)
> 
> Disclaimer!! I own nothing. No Supernatural, no Dirty Dancing, not even my cats. The cats own me.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Dammit Sammy, this is why there are rules in Baby. Me, aka the driver, picks the music. You, aka the shotgun, shuts his cakehole. So hands off the radio!” yelled the driver as he turned the volume dial all of way down, silencing the voice of George Michael.
> 
> Crossing his arms across his chest and looking put out, Sam looked out the passenger side window. “I was just trying to help, Dean. They say messing with the radio is a distraction and leads to more than 20 percent of car crashes in America. And it’s _Sam_ not Sammy.”
> 
> While he talked, Sam reached for the radio dial, only to have his hand smacked away, his brother glaring at him.
> 
> “Well I don’t know who these ‘they’ are, but -” he paused as he struggled to pull something from under the seat. “They obviously never drove with you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _“The job of feets is walking, but their hobby is dancing.”_   
>  **Amit Kalantri**

**June 3, 1988**  
A black ’67 Chevrolet Impala sped down Highway 64, windows rolled down in a futile attempt to ease the summer heat within. But through those windows, barely audible over the roar of the engine and screaming, were the notes of _One More Try_.

“Dammit Sammy, this is why there are rules in Baby. Me, aka the driver, picks the music. You, aka the shotgun, shuts his cakehole. So hands off the radio!” yelled the driver as he turned the volume dial all of way down, silencing the voice of George Michael.

Crossing his arms across his chest and looking put out, Sam looked out the passenger side window. “I was just trying to help, Dean. They say messing with the radio is a distraction and leads to more than 20 percent of car crashes in America. And it’s _Sam_ not Sammy.”

While he talked, Sam reached for the radio dial, only to have his hand smacked away, his brother glaring at him.

“Well I don’t know who these ‘they’ are, but -” he paused as he struggled to pull something from under the seat. “They obviously never drove with you.”

Dean victoriously pulled out a cassette tape that had wedged itself somewhere underneath the car seat and popped it in the tape deck. Turning up the volume, the music stylings of Cinderella filled the car. The heavy metal didn’t last for long, _You Don’t Know What (‘Til It’s Gone)_ suddenly filled the car, mixed with Sam’s crowing.

Heaving a sigh, Dean put his attention back on the road. He also may have muttered “bitch” under his breath. Sam may have replied “jerk” in-between laughs. But that was between them, mostly Sam.

Because it was a long 6 hours to go and the score was Sam – 2, Dean – 0.

*

This was Sam's first time working at Echo Beach Resort - hell it was his first time working at all. Dean had told him that it was going to be easy and not to be nervous, but if he were honest with himself it wasn’t just the job. Leaving his mom at home alone for three months just didn’t sit easily with him.

Their parents’ marriage may not have been the most ideal, but John and Mary made it work for the sake of their sons; they had made it work up until John had left for a job two states over. Dean was 11, Sam 5, the night the call came through. It was a woman, Kate, asking to speak with John. Turned out that job earned him more than money; it earned him a son and a divorce.

Infidelity was the one thing that Mary would not stand for, John was immediately kicked out. A year and a half later John was married to Kate and was paying what little child support he could, but it wasn’t enough to keep two growing boys fed and clothed. It was a miracle they could keep Sam alone clothed as much as he grew.

Seeing his mom struggle with three jobs made Dean’s decision to work at Echo Beach even easier. He could bring home money to help with bills and it was one less mouth to feed for 3 months. Sam didn’t hesitate to join him once he reached 16, even though his homesickness was already making him second guess himself.

*

“Sammy. Hey, Sammy wake up! Wake up now or I’ll wax your eyebrows,” said Dean.

  
The way that he said that last part in a singsong lilt was enough to make Sam alert. Dean had never made an empty threat when it came to a prank, and Sam didn’t want to start his first day of work without eyebrows. The time he had his shampoo replaced with Nair was bad enough.

Almost like reading his mind Dean laughed, opened the back of the Impala, and grabbed both of their duffle bags. Sam stepped out of the cramped front seat, groaning as he stretched his arms above his head, popping his back. Hours spent cooped up in the car (Dean had refused to make any pit stops) did nothing for the long-limbed boy. He slammed the door closed.

"Dammit Sammy!"

*

Making sure that Baby was locked up and secure, the brothers made their way toward the staff cabins. All the cabins pretty much looked the same – cherry wood stain, white trim along the sides, and porches. They were spaced a breath apart from each other, but just barely. Sam knew there wasn’t gonna be any privacy that was for sure.

The smell of pine overtook the ocean breeze from here. It was a huge disappointment since he had imagined spending his nights sitting on the porch, watching the waves, taking in the smell of the ocean he'd heard so much about. He’d seen enough damn trees back home! He wanted to see the ocean as much as he could, not these goddamn trees.

“You got a nice set up in here Sammy boy, well for being a new kid at least. I got your bag beside your bed, you can unpack when your roo-. Shit, I forgot to tell you didn’t I?” Dean stopped dead in tracks, one foot hovering on the step below. Seeing the expression on Sam’s face he rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly.

“I forgot to tell ya didn’t I? All the new kids usually get stuck with a _bunkmate._ I guess that's what you'd call it? Anyway, your bunkmate - roommate will probably be here soon. And I’ll be further down in my own casa if you need me. I’m sure it won’t be too bad though. You’ll see,” he ruffled Sam’s hair before scooping up his bag that he had dropped. "So stop with the bitch face ok?"

“Yeah, sure, ok Dean. I guess I’ll see you tomorrow then…” Sam replied, looking around dejectedly. "And I'm not giving a bitch face."

He pulled another face.

Dean rolled his eyes and pulled Sam into a bear hug. Letting him know that loved him and that they were gonna kick ass and take names this summer. Because this was it! The summer that was gonna change everything! He just knew it.

Ignoring his enthusiasm, Sam broke away from the hug and picked up his bag. “I’ll just go get unpacked and hit the sack. The ride here wore me out and that nap wasn’t even close to being enough. Besides, I want to be well-rested for the morning."

“Alright... see ya, tomorrow bitch,” said Dean, with a little less enthusiasm now.

Sam turned around as his brother left, the screen door swinging shut.

*

Taking inventory of the place he’d be staying for the next three months, Sam began sorting his things. He kept eyeing the bunk bed, which personally offended him with its presence at the moment. Not only had it meant roommate, it meant making a decision. He didn’t want to deal with either – so he handled the latter as any 16 year old would.

“Eeny, meeny, miney, moe…” Sam covered his eyes and moved his finger up and down until he reached the end of the song, finger landing on the bottom bed.

“Well that’s settled.”

Digging through his bag he pulled out his Walkman and kicked off his shoes. Stretching out on his bed and put on his headphones. He ended up falling asleep…

  
_Home, is where I want to be_  
_But I guess I’m already there_  
_I come home, she lifted up her wings_  
_I guess that this must be the place_

*

There was a foot swinging in his face.

Sam watched it swing like a metronome.

Cruel Summer played through the spongey headphones.

Having had enough, he reached out and grabbed the Ked clad foot, laughing as the person above crashed to the floor with a yelp.

Yanking off the Walkman, he rolled off the bed and crawled toward the kid who appeared to be hurt. Only the boy looked more confused over physical injury. Maybe 70, 30.

So Sam did the one insensitive thing that one does in a situation like this. He laughed his ass off. He pointed and laughed, the boy stared. 

“I’m really sorry dude, but ya gotta admit that was good!”

The kid's stare intensified. A hint of betrayal bleeding in, his light blue eyes starting to shine with tears as Sam’s laughter slowly trailed to a stop.

“No, that was _not_ _good_! That was the opposite of good! Why would you do that to someone you just met? No, someone you haven’t even met yet. Because I don’t even know who you are, except for that you are a bully.”

Sam gawked at the boy who scrambled up the ladder of the bunk bed and huddled under the covers.

“Oh. Well… um. I’m Sam, and I'm really sorry about that whole thing. I mean it man, and I hope you’re okay up there. Now I know why my brother is always calling me a bitch… You know what? I’m gonna shut up now. And leave ya alone,” he sighed and headed to the bathroom.

Before he closed the door Sam heard a muffled sound coming from under the blanket. It almost sounded like:

“I’m Jack by the way."

*

Hands stuffed in the front pockets of his faded blue jeans, Dean strolled in the direction of Sam’s cabin, whistling nonchalantly. He tuned out the chatter of those around him. It was always the same thing on the first day - catching up from last year, who was gonna be hooking up this year, which family would be returning.

He was here for one reason and one reason only. 

**BANG BANG BANG**

“Hey wake up Sleeping Beauty! C’mon now, time to rise and shine… and like hell am I kissing your ugly ass awake. Sam, get up now!”

Ignoring the racket and not hearing the door open, Sam was unprepared for the swift kick to his legs that sent him rolling off the mattress and onto the floor. Standing uneasily with a weak groan, he stretched toward the ceiling, then rubbed the sleep from his eyes.

“Okay, okay, I’m up, I’m up. Damn. Did anyone tell you that your bedside manner sucks, Dean?" He really needed to look into getting a fucking lock. If not for his dignity, but for Jack’s. If he thought the younger Winchester was bad, the older was bound to have him running back to Virginia. 

Dean shrugged nonchalantly. “Not a doctor, don’t care. Now go get your sasquatch ass dressed so we can go eat. Pancakes, bacon, and sausage are calling my name. So put some gas in that ass.”

He paused, and from the look on his face Sam could tell he was thinking about that last part. Dean let out a snort of laughter. “Man I have _got_ to remember that one. ‘Gas in your ass.’ _HA_ now that’s funny.”

Sam rolled his eyes, 'cuz no, it wasn't _that_ funny and gave Dean the one-finger salute and ducked into the bathroom.

With perfect timing, Jack swung the screen door open and walked inside. First thing to happen was he spotted Dean sitting on Sam's bed, who gave him a friendly wave. Second thing to happen was Jack yelped and jumped away from the stranger in his space. Third thing to happen was that Jack jumped back against the screen door, pushing it open, and falling back onto the porch. 

Dean never had a chance to check on him before the blonde picked himself up and bolted from the cabin.

“…Okay then….” Dean muttered to himself, wondering what the hell that was about.

Exiting the bathroom Sam was greeted with howling laughter.

Echo Beach Resorts had a very interesting take on what was work appropriately. A black t-shirt with the logo (a white E and B swirled on top of each other) clung to his slightly muscular form. Little was left to the imagination above the waist, and even less was left below. Struggling to move in his mandatory tight skinny jeans, he ignored his assbutt of an older brother, only to come to the realization that he had to put on –

Unlacing the boots down to the ankle, allowing him to fold down the top half, he got Dean to help him get his boots on.

He may have had to lean against the wall.

He may have threatened to kick Dean in the face a few times. 

*

Dean had laughed the entire way to the canteen and through breakfast, nearly choking on his bacon. Fed up, Sam pushed his plate of fruit with eggs away and stalked out. He'd rather be around his boss right now than Dean, so he made good time getting to the main office - better to get there early instead of late. Maybe this would earn him brownie points and a better job for the day.

Or maybe not.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thin Lizzy - The Boys are Back in Town  
> George Michael - One More Try   
> Cinderella - Don’t Know What You Got (‘Til It’s Gone)  
> Talking Heads - This Must Be the Place (Naive Melody)  
> Bananarama - Cruel Summer  
> Autograph - Turn Up The Radio  
> The the - This Is The Day


	2. Exchange Your Troubles for Some Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Name’s Gabriel. Gabriel Novak,” Gabriel responded, sticking his hand out. “So… you got a name kiddo? Or should I stick to calling you Sasquatch, just out of spite.”
> 
> “Oh please don’t!” Sam groaned. “My big brother calls me that enough. No... you can call me Sam.” Sam took Gabriel’s hand in his, shaking it while being helped up off the ground.
> 
> If their story was ever to be told, Sam would swear their hands fit perfectly together. He would also swear that he knew he’d never let go of this boy.
> 
> “Sam Winchester.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _“You dance love, and you dance joy, and you dance dreams. And I know if I can make you smile by jumping over a couple of couches or running through a rainstorm, then I’ll be very glad to be a song and dance man.”_   
>  **Gene Kelly**

**June 4, 1988**  
He leaned back into the warm vinyl interior of his father’s Oldsmobile Dynamic, cobalt eyes hidden behind his black Wayfarers. The wind coming through the open window to his left extenuated the ruffled style he usually wore his black hair, the tips twisting into knots.

To anyone else the stiffness of his body and the silence that surrounded him, would make it appear as if he were in deep thought, however, this was not the case. He was bored. Beyond bored. The trip from the Novak’s home to some mysterious vacation location six hours away had been agonizing. The drive itself had been quite pleasant. There had been no mishaps or emergencies. The drive itself had been fine. It was his midget of an older brother that was the problem. Gabriel was _this_ close to being sent to the 7th circle of Hell. Gabriel was an ok big brother with his eccentric sense of style and prankster humor (if you were lucky to not be on the receiving end).

Out of all the many talents his brother had, singing was not one of them.

Yet, Gabriel wanted to sing and God forbid someone tells him otherwise.

And Gabriel had decided to serenade his whole family for 3 ½ hours so far. 

_You put the boom-boom into my heart_  
_You send my soul sky high when your lovin’ starts_  
_Jitterbug into my brain_  
_Goes a bang-bang-bang ‘til my feet do the same_

With each tone-deaf “boom-boom” or “bang-bang” Gabriel would wave his left arm around. Ignoring his younger brother who had balled his hand into a fist, Castiel flogged him on his left thigh. The sound that came from Gabriel would have been hilarious if Castiel hadn’t been focused on the pain in his hand.

Whimpering, he looked from his hand to Gabriel, eyes narrowed in disdain.

“What the hell was that about?! I didn’t see any punch buggies around…” Gabriel looked back. Maybe he had missed one? The road was empty, confirming his statement. Turning back around he looked down at his leg and at the fist-shaped bruise that was quickly forming. His honey-colored eyes grew wet as tears began to well up, dangerously close to spilling. His bottom lip quivered.

Gabriel had always been a drama queen.

“Listen, I’m sorry okay! It’s just that... Well, you see the thing is... Gabe you haven’t shut up since we left home! I’ve kindly asked you to be quiet multiple times but you just won’t listen, so that was my last resort. How about this: to make it up to you, next punch buggy you get double punches,” said Castiel, slightly embarrassed with his barbaric behavior, even if he felt justified.

Gabriel’s eyes were suddenly free of tears and a smile split his face. “Yeah, that does make me feel a little bit better. Serves you right for hitting me though, and make it triple punches. Oh and throw in a bag of pixie sticks. And a ring pop. I think that’ll make me feel better, ‘cuz if I have to be honest, you really hurt me, Cassie. I’m not talking physically, even though that did _HURT_ , but you hurt me here. Real bad,” Gabriel pointed to a spot on the right side of his chest, shaking his head in disapproval.

“Fine, you have a deal. Though I think I got the short end of the pixie stick on this bargain,” Castiel retorted with a smirk. “And I’m pretty sure that you’re pointing to your lung, Gabriel,” he sputtered, laughing at his brother, who was now blowing raspberries at him.

"Look at lil' bro over here with the jokes! I must be rubbing off on after all these years."

"Yeah, rubbing me the wrong way."

And with a noogie from Gabriel, Castiel declares their deal null and void.

*

Glancing up, Castiel is startled to see olive-green eyes, framed by light red hair, staring at him. Sliding his sunglasses down his nose, Castiel raised an eyebrow, returning his mother’s stare with one of his own.

“Yes?” he tilted his head to the side.

“Oh nothing, it’s just nice to see that you two can handle things on your own without me or your father having to intervene,” Anna replied, trying to mimic her son’s stoic expression.

“Well I would say that we’re both adults, but I’d only be speaking for one of us. It can’t be helped though; Gabriel hasn’t acted his age since he was 5.” Castiel pushed his sunglasses back up his nose, resting his head on the back of the seat, facing the window. Gabriel had fallen asleep now had drool rolling down his chin.

Shaking her head Anna turned back around, smiling at their father, Jimmy. Castiel didn’t have to look to know what they were doing; they were always like that when he and Gabriel were around. It was something he had longed for, it made his chest hurt, but he told himself he didn't have time for shit like that. Studying, volunteering, and occasionally helping Jimmy at his office were just a few things that kept his time occupied. They actually took up much – ok all – of his free time, leaving no room for dating.

Not that it mattered.

High school was over and now he had the whole summer to relax before starting on his next venture.

Closing his eyes, Castiel allowed himself to relax as the soothing voice on the radio faded into the sounds of piano, bass guitar, and drums.

_Etch a postcard :_  
_"How I Dearly Wish I Was Not Here"_  
_In the seaside town_

*

The shaking of the car woke Castiel up. He lifted his head and stuck it out the window.

The first thing that assaulted his senses was the smell of the ocean.

Jimmy turned the radio off and Castiel could hear the roar of the waves from somewhere around them.

Ignoring the chatter of other guests checking in, seagulls’ squawked above them, searching for scraps of food.

Damn scavengers.

Gabriel threw a piece of bread at some woman and nearly died laughing as one of the birds made a nosedive in her direction, causing her to literally face plant into a bush. Castiel glared at his brother and then joined in his laughter.

The building stood three stories high, yellow with brown trims. Both the east and west wings were slightly off-kilter from the rest of the house, giving the impression of pushed forward. Five rectangular chimneys poked from the top of the roofs, the ones at each one wing taller than the other three. The main porch stretched the length of the building, ground level, with white latticework.

Pulling up to the front of the building, Castiel and Gabriel continued to stare, shell shocked. As if on autopilot, the two boys got out of the car and headed to the trunk, only to witness their father get assaulted by a short, slightly round man with a suit.

The man stood out like a sore thumb. Even though it was hotter than Hades his three-piece suit was pristine, and the man showed no signs of perspiring. Either the guy had been sitting inside the whole time or he had an extreme tolerance for heat. Still, creepy as the Johnny Cash wannabe was, he seemed genuinely happy to see Jimmy. A smile – at least that’s what it resembled – eased across his face, while he enveloped Jimmy in a hug.

To the surprise of all present Novak’s, Jimmy hugged the man back, face showing nothing but joy. The two boys looked at their mother who shared the same expression as them... pure shock. Seemed Jimmy forgot to mention a little thing like -

“Anna, boys, I want you to meet a dear friend of mine, Crowley MacLeod. Crowley, I want to introduce my wife Anna and our two boys, Gabriel and Castiel. Crowley and I go back ages, and to be honest, he’s the reason we’re staying here this summer,” said Jimmy, patting Crowley’s upper arm.

“Jimmy I’m just glad you _finally_ decided to accept my offer to stay the summer here. My God man, you practically saved my life, yet you constantly refuse to let me show my appreciation.” He turned his attention to the Novak’s. “This man saved my life! Hell if it weren’t for him I wouldn’t be standing here today.”

“And you’ll continue to stand here if you maintain that blood pressure of yours…” The two walked away, not too far, just a few feet, lost in conversation, playing catch up.

Castiel stood beside the car and watched his father’s interactions.

Showing no signs of being bothered, Anna shook her head and turned to join Gabriel at the trunk of the car, helping to drag the suitcases and bags out. Well, Anna got the bags out; Gabriel was digging through one of his if the rustling was any indication.

“MOMMMMM!! Oh it’s a _calamity_! The horror of it all! My precious chocolate, melted, melted. Oh what a world! Who would have that some little orange flaming planet like you, could destroy my beautiful weakness?" Shaking his fist at the sun, Gabriel earned some weird looks and wide berths from the other guests.

Castiel made himself a mental to ask his mom if Gabriel was adopted. Between the way, he was acting and the way he was dressed right now (a long-sleeved floral print shirt, high waist suspender shorts, round sunglasses, and black ankle boots) there was _no way_ they were related.

Gabriel stared at him, mouth open; Anna had eyes narrowed in a combination of anger and embarrassment.

Oops. Mental note was _NOT_ a mental note afterall.

Just before she could tear into Castiel for being an insensitive ass the bellhop arrived, her glare shifted to a look that said they were going to talk later.

Using the distraction Gabriel took his bags from the trunk, candy forgotten. Sneaking around from the side of the car that Castiel didn’t occupy Gabriel caught sight of the approaching boy. He stopped dead in his tracks and his jaw dropped at the tall, yummy, and delicious.

The boy was tall, freakishly tall. The uniform (could you even _call_ that a uniform) consisted of skintight jeans that hugged the boy's never-ending legs and round firm ass perfectly.

His black shirt was stretched across his chest letters scripted and barely legible from the strain the shirt was undergoing. The short sleeves of the shirt displayed the developing muscles of his biceps. The tucked-in look also didn't help, drawing attention to what the boy was packing. Gabriel sucked air between his teeth at the thought of gripping those muscles, glistening with sweat, while being thoroughly fucked. 

The boy’s long shiny locks, sweaty and tied back, reminded him of the chocolate he had previously been whining about. Forget being fucked, Gabriel wanted to grab that hair and pull as he fucked the boy from behind. He wondered if the boy was a virgin, top or bottom, screamer or the silent type.

Fuck.

Gabriel, lost in his fantasies, didn’t realize he’d been staring until hazel puppy dog eyes were on him. The cutest blush spread across the boy’s face. He then looked away and stopped when he reached the luggage.

Spotting the boy out of the corner of his eye, Crowley sneered and demanded the boy get the Novak’s things. Clearly the guy was an asshole and micromanager from hell.

He proceeded to lean over, giving Gabriel a better view of that ass that had him nearly coming in his pants.

Rushing over, bags in hand, Gabriel stooped down beside him and set his bags on the luggage cart. “Here let me help you out kiddo.” Leaning close Gabriel grabbed a suitcase in each hand, hearing the boy mutter under his breath that he was not a kid. With an exasperated sigh he turned to his right and froze with his mouth agape. Another blush spreading across his face, eyes never leaving Gabriel’s.

“Um… Well th-thanks, that’s really kind of you. Ma- Ma-Maybe you should get a job here.” He smiled shyly, the cutest set of dimples forming, making Gabriel’s heart skip a beat. His heart grew three sizes.

Flipping his ponytail from over his shoulder, the bellboy stood up, never losing eye contact. Following suit, Gabriel stood but stepped closer, invading his space. All he wanted to do was stare in those eyes all day, get to know what they look like when he's pissed off, happy, turned on, sad, coming. Everything. 

Willing himself to look away, he whispered, “if it means being closer to you, then consider me employed,” into his ear. 

Then walked away.

Putting a sway to his hips, he sent a prayer to God that he was being watched. Gabriel may not be a hunter, but he sure as hell was gonna bag him a treat this summer, even if it killed him.

Stealing a glance behind him a surge of hope spread through him as he saw that the boy was checking him out, or to be precise, his ass.

*

“Hey! Hey, short dude wait up!” Sam skidded to a stop and collided into Gabe, falling on his ass.

Gabe, who had a mixture of “you got some nerve” and “I oughta kick your ass bitch” in those honey eyes, glared down at an image that would now be stuck in his spank bank for months.

“Hey, I was just wondering – I mean I just – I didn’t get your name.” Sam blushed, embarrassed over the fact that he couldn’t speak a complete sentence without stuttering in front of this perfect angel.

“Name’s Gabriel. Gabriel Novak,” Gabriel responded, sticking his hand out. “And you ever call me ‘short dude’ again and you’ll find out what 6 months of TMNT has taught me. So… you got a name kiddo? Or should I stick to calling you Sasquatch, just out of spite.”

“Oh please don’t!” Sam groaned. “My big brother calls me that enough. No... you can call me Sam.” Sam took Gabriel’s hand in his, shaking it while being helped up off the ground.

If their story was ever to be told, Sam would swear their hands fit perfectly together. He would also swear that he knew he’d never let go of this boy.

“Sam Winchester.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Scorpions - Holiday  
> Wham! - Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go  
> Morrissey - Everyday is Like Sunday  
> Depeche Mode - What’s Your Name


	3. Haven't Had a Dream in a Long Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel officially hated dancing.  
> He blamed Gabriel and Crowley for this fact.  
> Gabriel was at fault just for being Gabriel – it’s his brother’s nature.  
> As for Crowley, it was his fault for bringing up dancing lessons in the first place.  
> In front of Gabriel.  
> Especially in front of Gabriel.  
> Crowley may as well have given the guy free rein to Willy-fucking-Wonka’s goddamn Chocolate Factory.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _We dance round in a ring and suppose, but the secret sits in the middle and knows._   
>  **Robert Frost**

**June 6, 1988**  
Castiel officially hated dancing.

He blamed Gabriel and Crowley for this fact.

Gabriel was at fault just for being Gabriel – it’s his brother’s nature.

As for Crowley, it was his fault for bringing up dancing lessons in the first place.

In front of Gabriel. 

Especially in front of Gabriel.

Crowley may as well have given the guy free rein to Willy-fucking-Wonka’s goddamn Chocolate Factory.

Castiel could still feel the press of those geriatric bodies against his as they bumped against each other in some perverted remake of a merengue dance. The smell of mouth balls and Jean Nate body powder continued to permeate his sinuses. The sound of “One, Two, Three, Four” being repeated were embedded so deep in his brain, that he was surprised he wasn’t waltzing in his sleep.

It had been a complete sensory overload.

Two days later (for reasons best left unsaid) the two brothers were being asked to leave.

Castiel was mortified.

Gabriel flipped off the blonde dance instructor.

Castiel hated dancing.

*

Five days had passed since then.

The Novak’s were stuck inside their cabin, the rain unrelenting until sometime early the next morning. No one seemed to care about the hindrance and ignored the humidity that weighed down heavily as the day went on.

Gabriel had started vanishing from their _family time_ _jamborees_ (EBR term), something their parents weren’t too happy about. Castiel wasn’t too happy at Gabriel either because who wants to do the Chicken Dance and potato sack races alone with their parents.

No one – that’s who.

Because they sucked at both!

*

Letting his parents know he was going out, Castiel changed into a light pink, long-sleeved shirt, the fabric light enough for the season. He slipped on a pair of black Converses to go along with the pair of jeans he had on and made his way out, letting the screen door bang behind him.

The night was miserable, muggy, and threatened to let loose a thunderstorm if the added smell in the air was any indication.

After roaming the grounds Castiel came across an old oak tree. It wasn’t tall and majestic like all the other trees he’d seen; this one was special.

It reminded him of Gabriel.

Climbing between the gnarled branches of the short oak, he sat on what could be considered the trunk. Then leaning back, he kicked his legs up on a branch, crossing them at the ankle. From this angle he could see the stars through the few leaves on his tree, looking for any constellations he may notice.

He drifted off after finding Ursa Minor, Orion’s belt, and Libra.

 _Wish I knew what you were looking for_ _  
Might have known what you would find_

*

The sound of yelling is what jolted him out of his slumber.

Castiel didn’t know how long he’d been asleep, nor did he remember falling asleep. All he knew was that he was stiff, and he drenched in sweat thanks to the humidity.

Sliding out the tree he dusted off his jeans and shirt, sweeping off any dirt or pieces of tree bark.

Stepping away from the tree and taking a curious look around he found no one was near. However, when the yelling continued, he followed the sound until he was standing at the back of a small dining lodge. Silently he ascended the steps of the large porch, kneeling and peering into the window.

Crowley stood in the middle of the dining area surrounded by members of the waiting staff. Animated and thoroughly enthralled in his speech he wouldn’t have noticed if a herd of elephants came stampeding through the room. The staff around him shifted nervously. The tension that built in the room was enough to make even Castiel cringe, and he wasn’t even _involved_.

The staff, an even mix of men and women, appeared to be between the ages of 18 and 23, wearing similarly styled outfits.

The men were dressed in all black from the top of their shirts to the bottom of their shiny dress shoes. Their black dress shirts were tucked into pants that reminded him of the ones the bellhop was wearing. The women’s skirts were knee-length and _very_ fitting. The dress shirts were similar to the men’s, but the buttons of their shirts were silver, along with a silver tie, and worn identically. Their pumps were black with swirls of silver starting at the toe, growing tighter until the 3-inch heel was completely silver.

Crowley began to prowl through the sea of black and silver, his expression indifferent. “You are all educated people and as required you should act as such. _That_ is the reason I hired you! You came to me needing something, and in return I expect you to act like you’ve got some goddamn sense in those Einstein brains of yours! I’d hate to be disappointed in the first week, yet I can tell I already will be.”

Reaching into his jacket he pulled out a pamphlet and rolled it so he could one of the women closest to him. “I’m _sure_ you’ve seen all the different types of employees -” he glared at her, “- and that it’s obvious there’s a difference between you and them. _They_ ” Crowley thrust his finger toward the window that Castiel had ducked underneath, venom etched into the word, “are the low class, the poor, and the uneducated losers who will never accomplish ANYTHING in this world. They are scum! On the other hand, you lot will grow to be the lawyers, doctors, hell, even financial managers of the future!”

He stopped in front of a young man with carefully styled blonde hair, blue eyes, and a tan that screamed too much time in a tanning bed and stock in Hawaiian Tropic. Anyone else in his position would be pissing in their pants, but not this guy. No, he seemed to actually _relish_ under the scrutiny of Crowley’s glare. The smug expression on his face was asking for an ass-kicking from someone – anyone!

_That guy sure has balls the size of Texas. And probably an ego to boot._

Looking the man up and down, Crowley walked away with a smirk to continue with his tirade.

“As you are aware, this is a _family_ establishment, so act like you have some goddamn sense please! I don’t want you fraternizing with each other, that is why the sons and daughters are here. And before I hear any arguing I want to make myself crystal clear: I don’t care if they have a face that their own _mother_ can’t love, you use whatever the hell you have to schmooze them. Guys, think with your cocks and women, well… you think with whatever it is you think with. Is that clear enough for you?” Crowley scanned the crowd, daring anyone to disagree with him.

A unanimous agreement filled the room.

Just as Crowley opened his mouth to continue speaking, he was interrupted by the sound of a door opening followed by sounds of boisterous men. Their voices grew louder as they rounded the corner into the dining room, and suddenly there was silence.

The leader (at least to that group he was) was all Castiel could see and nothing in the world existed after that.

From top to bottom this man was perfect. His bowlegs were giving Castiel’s fantasies that he didn’t know he could create. If they were even possible.

Castiel bit into his hands to stop himself from whimpering, all he wanted to do was rush in there and run his fingers through the man’s slicked back dirty blonde hair. It just looked so soft, like one would imagine a giant cumulus cloud would feel like.

He wished the man would turn around, but he couldn’t complain _too_ much since it gave him a chance to ogle an ass you could bounce a quarter off of. Those jeans should be marked illegal in up to 20 states, ‘cuz right now he was breaking at least 37 laws just in his head alone.

He had rolled up the sleeves of his white t-shirt, revealing the bulge of a firm bicep, not overly muscular, just enough to show this guy worked with his arms… a lot. And if the man looked this good covered up, he hated to think how he’d react to seeing him shirtless.

The black combat boots he donned had come untied at some point, or either he had slipped them on in a hurry and couldn’t be bothered to have tied them.

His trance was broken when he suddenly couldn’t see anything. At some point during his staring he had pressed up against the window, his breath fogging up the window. Using his hand, he wiped away the condensation, only to see the man and Crowley in a heated argument.

“Well, well, well, what do we have here? It seems the ‘entertainment’ crew has decided to bless us with their presence. Tell me boys, what made you think you were allowed in here?” Crowley folded his arms across his chest, looking down his nose – figuratively – at the man.

“Bite me Crowley. We were just passing through, so stop your bitching and we’ll be outta here. Besides the air in here reeks of hoity-toity bullshit, and it might be contagious,” the man scrunched his nose up in disgust. 

Not waiting for Crowley to retaliate, the waiter that Castiel had deemed “ballsy” was in the man’s face, his white shirt clutched in his fist. “Now you listen to me you lower-than-shit-piece-of-garbage, you don’t talk to _him_ or _any_ of us like that. _WE_ are above you and you _will_ show us some respect!”

The man pushed tanning bed boy away, smoothing out the wrinkles now on his shirt. Smirking he looked the waiter up and down, scoffing. “Yeah I’ll be sure to show you ‘some’ respect you little piss ant. Now get. The fuck. Away from me,” he snarled, punching the last seven words out vehemently.

Crowley placed his hand on the shoulder of the waiter, squeezing it in the form of a warning.

“Luc get the hell over there with the others before I let Winchester here beat you to a bloody pulp. Winchester get your ass out of here and remember what I’ve told you. Unless you’re performing, stay away from my guests. The last thing I need is to be sued because you couldn’t keep it in your pants,” Crowley instructed, making it difficult to tell just which side he was on.

Clenching his fists, Winchester stormed out of the room, shouting at Crowley to shove a pickle where the sun don’t shine. One of the “entertainment” members made a show of lifting his middle finger, holding it up as he made his way out the door.

Castiel stepped back from the window, descended the porch steps, and made his way back to the cabin.

_How could Dad be friends with such a… hypocrite! I wonder if he shares the same thoughts as Crowley..._

He entered their cabin quietly and curled up in his bed, so into his thoughts he failed to notice that Gabriel’s presence was still absent.

*

The next day found the Novak’s enjoying a quiet lunch in the small dining area that was cut off from its formal counterpart. Soft chatter amongst the other patrons filled the silence at their table; the friction was unnerving.

Castiel was still upset over last night; he was biting the inside of his jaw to keep from making a scene. Gabriel looked upset over something, staring absently at his plate, pushing the food around with his fork. He wondered if it had anything to do with Gabriel’s absence last night. However, once it was apparent that Gabriel’s mood wasn’t going to improve in the near future, Castiel tugged on his brother’s sleeve.

Castiel gave him his best “poor pitiful me” expression and asked if he’d come to the restroom with him.

Gabriel looked at him, eyebrow raised, considering the sanity of his younger brother. “I don’t need to take a leak, and I certainly know you don’t need help holding your dick, so why should I go to the john with you?”

Jimmy glared at his son, embarrassed by his crude behavior. Turning to his father nonchalantly he took note of his expression. He heaved a sigh and pushed himself up. Wordlessly he headed toward the restroom, Castiel in pursuit.

Once both of them had entered Castiel made sure no one else was occupying the space. He then locked the door, focusing on his brother in concern.

“Okay, you’re gonna tell me what’s wrong right now, or so help me I’ll swirly your midget ass. It’s not like you to _not_ eat, and I never would have guessed you even _knew_ how to mope. So, talk to me right now Gabriel Elvin Milton,” he said, his tone going for pissed to worried.

“Soooo like first of all, swirlies involve the _head_ not the ass. Second of all, I’m not a midget. Third of all, it’s not like I eat 24/7 so don’t assume shit Castiel. Nothing is wrong with me. Everything is hunky-dory and okie dokie artichokey. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m gonna go back before they order dessert without me,” Gabriel replied.

Unlocking the door, he left before Castiel could get in a counter-response. Shaking his head, Castiel left the room, coming to an immediate halt when he saw a familiar figure at their table. He was wearing the same outfit he had been wearing last night and staring at Gabriel intently. Thinking back to what Crowley had said last night he made a mad dash back to the table, nearly tripping on the way.

“Oh, good you two back. It seems that something came up and this fine young gentleman was kind enough to replace Bela. Luc, I’d like to introduce you to our youngest, Castiel. Luc was just telling us about himself, but now that you’re here how about we order dessert,” said Jimmy, ignoring his son’s faltering expression.

Castiel smiled uneasily at his father but nodded and proceeded to order some ice cream.

Luc would have done Crowley proud. He spent the rest of the service focused on Gabriel, flirting shamelessly. A few times Castiel kicked his brother from under the table, but the little brat was just eating it up.

Winking at him, Luc sauntered off to the kitchen, flashing a smirk as he passed Crowley and a young woman.

She looked pretty enough with wavy, shoulder-length, dark brown hair. Her pale skin empathized by her hair and dark brown eyes.

Crowley and guest stopped as they approached the Novak’s table. Crowley patted Jimmy on the shoulder, startling the younger man.

“Hello there, Jim. I noticed the whole family here and thought I’d stop and see how your stay has been. I also _might_ have had some ulterior motive. It seems my lovely niece, Meg, has decided to spend her summer here, and I wanted to introduce her to all the right people,” Crowley looked around the table, nudging Meg when got a good look at Cas.

“Our stay has been wonderful, Crowley, thank you for asking. You really have done an exceptional job running the place.

“But I don’t know about us being the ‘right people’, however it is nice to meet a family member of yours,” Jimmy said, glancing over in Meg’s direction. He stuck his hand out to shake her hand; the others just gave a polite smile and wave.

“So, tell me about your son’s here. Are any of them going to follow in their father’s footsteps?”

“God no, they made that perfectly clear from day one. Castiel here is going to joining the Peace Corps when he turns 18, and possibly make his way over to Guinea next spring. Gabriel though…,” Jimmy faltered, in all honestly he had no _clue_ what his oldest was interested in.

“ _Gabriel_ is actually quite a talented baker. We don’t like to brag, but for his birthday last year he made a 10-layer chocolate cake with a hazelnut/chocolate frosting. We’ve talked about him enrolling at the CIA for their baking and pastry program, possibly opening his own business afterward,” Anna said, in defense of Gabriel.

Jimmy’s jaw dropped at hearing this, ashamed that his wife knew more about their own son than he did.

“Wow, Gabriel I’m sorry. I just… I would never have expected that from you! I’m sorry if I – “

Gabriel rounded on his father, his anger flaring over his father’s surprise and confession. He’d always known that Castiel was their father’s favorite; Gabriel had always stuck close to their mother. That didn’t make the fact that his father seemed to know jack shit about him any easier.

Standing up quickly, his chair fell over behind him, and Gabriel stalked out of the room. Castiel made to stand up but stopped when his mother’s hand cupped his. Shaking her head Castiel sat down defeated and watched him go.

“Well you don’t see entertainment like that around here a lot. Hey Clarence, how about you and me get outta here, this place is giving me a headache and reeks of family of drama,” Meg said, rubbing into her temple, though it was hard to tell if she was faking or not.

Castiel looked over at Crowley’s niece, confused at the nickname and the fact that she was addressing him.

However, with the encouragement of his dad and Crowley, he kindly escorted her outside.

Worst mistake ever.

*

Gabriel should have known it was too good to be true.

Sam and he had been spending as much time as possible together for the past week, getting to know each other and avoiding the Heffalump in the room. Gabriel _knew_ that Sam was younger than him, but maybe by a year. A month or two maybe? He had at least hoped the kid was 18. But life wasn’t that kind to him.

“’Sweet Sixteen’ my ass, ain’t nothing sweet about it. Why, why, why, why, **WHY**!!!’” Gabriel groaned and shuffled to his bed, falling forward and landing face-first into the pillow below.

He was sprawled across his bed, thankful that his parents and brother were still out doing… something. The cabin was empty when he had come in and he didn’t care that much about why. 

_Sam had just gotten done with working for the day, and since Dean had been busy with his own job, they headed back to Sam’s place for some privacy. Their “privacy” usually involved lots of light action (second base) and less conversation. Sam had never been happier that his roommate was decent enough to get lost. Once the door to the cabin was closed, Sam was on Gabriel like a spider monkey._

_Squeezing beside each other on Sam’s bed, Gabriel cuddled into the younger boy, nervously fidgeting with his shirt, picking off a piece of imaginary lint. Knowing it had to be done, the older man lifted himself up onto one arm, his golden eyes etched in worry, not wanting to know the answer he was about to hear._

_“Sammykins, I know that now is probably a weird time to be asking this, and its awkward as shit for me to ask. But I gotta know before … Well just to ease my guilty conscience. I couldn’t live with myself knowing I’d corrupted such a beautiful thing as yourself. So, I guess what I’m trying to ask is. What I’m trying to say is. How old are ya kid?”_

_Sam stared at him._

_Gabriel isn’t sure what he expected. Maybe he’d get the puppy dog eyes and be told to not worry about age because it was just a number – but that wasn’t how Sam was. A well-deserved punch would also work in this situation. Yelling. Getting called a cad and slapped across the face. A drink in the face. Being dumped out the bed, Sam straddling him as he –_

_"-Gabe did you hear me?” Sam bopped him on the nose, a soft smile gracing his face. One that was laced with a hint of sadness. That wasn’t good._

_Not able to stand seeing that sadness, Gabriel bopped Sam’s nose in return but added a grab. “Yeah, sorry Sammich, just got distracted by that handsome face of yours. So, what were you saying, sweetness?”_

_"Oh, um, well… I was saying that I was sixteen. My age. It’s sixteen.” He paused watching Gabriel for a reaction. “I mean, you’re only eighteen, right? And I’ll be seventeen next year! So, it’s okay isn’t it? Isn’t… it?”_

_Sam’s excitement tapered off as the color drained from Gabriel’s face. Because he was in deep shit right now._

_"_ _No Sam, I’m_ NOT _eighteen. And even if I were, it still wouldn’t make this okay,” leaping off the bed he booked it out the door, leaving Sam lost and someone would even call it heartbroken_

He felt guilty about leaving Sam like that, but what else was he supposed to do! He couldn’t risk everything in his life for whatever he and Sam had going on.

It was just gonna be a summer thing anyway, so Gabriel would just find someone else fill the emptiness he felt. And he knew Sam would understand why he did what he did.

Everything would be okay, as long as no one found out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Smiths - Please, Please, Please Let Me Get What I Want  
> The Church - Under the Milky Way  
> The Smiths - Never Had No One Ever  
> Billy Idol - Sweet Sixteen


	4. I Know I'm Unloveable, You Don't Have to Tell Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “So ‘tall, dark, and handsome’ is he, Jo? Tell me more, tell me more, like does he have a car,” Dean managed to say before getting backhanded right upside his head. He barked out a laugh, waggling his eyebrows at Jo.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _“People have asked me why I chose to be a dancer. I did not choose. I was chosen to be a dancer, and with that, you live all your life.”_   
>  **Martha Graham**

**June 17, 1988**  
Inside a small cabin sat a man in pain. Said man was near tears, though he would deny it all the way to his death bed. Perched on the table beside him was a pair of new, slightly used dancing shoes. Their black sheen had started to fade, the slight heel starting to look scuffed. A groan echoed through the room as he rubbed his tired feet, careful to avoid the newly formed blisters. Even though it was his job to dance, had been for the past 2 years, he had not paid attention to the condition of his previous shoes. Well, not until the day before D-day.

He knew the consequences the day he bought these shoes.

Gingerly he peeled off his socks and cringed at the sight – the small blisters were swollen along his heels and toes, the rest of his foot red from the friction of his shoes. Stuffing the socks into the bane of his existence, he hurled them across the room where they landed with a dull thump.

It was anticlimactic, to say the least.

Pushing up from the chair he limped to the bathroom, keeping his feet stiff to avoid pinching the sores.

Placing a stopper in the drain of the tub and turning on the hot water, open full force, he began to strip off his outfit from what could be called the “Night from Hell.”

Draping the black cummerbund across the bathroom sink, he made quick work of the three buttons that had remained intact through the crucial number Jo and he had done. Wishing he didn’t have to see the scrap of silk again, he carefully hung it from the hook on the back of the bathroom door. Pushing down the pinstripe pants, wiggling to get them past his hips, they dropped down to form a puddle at his feet, quickly followed by a pair of black boxer briefs.

By this time the tub had filled to an adequate level, steam billowing up invitingly. Stepping carefully, one foot at a time, into the tub, he hissed as he left one foot in the water, allowing his body to adjust to the temperature change. Once he was sure, he sunk into the water and propped his sore foot onto the side of the tub. The achiness of his legs, which he had completely ignored in lieu of his feet, made itself known as the muscles relaxed.

He was really starting to hate the samba.

Closing his eyes, a small towel thrown over them to block out all the light, he thought back to the conversation he had had with Jo before the show had begun that night. She had been telling him about one of her classes last week, the one where a short, snarky boy had flipped her off.

_*_

_“There was another boy with him, and I’m gonna be safe in assuming it had to have been his brother. Hell,_ only _a brother could put up with the crap that little guy was dishing. Though I don’t think they made it very far before tall, dark, and handsome beat the shit out of him,” Jo said, smirking at the memory of the two total opposites._

_“So ‘tall, dark, and handsome’ is he, Jo? Tell me more, tell me more, like does he have a car,” Dean managed to say before getting backhanded right upside his head. He barked out a laugh, waggling his eyebrows at Jo._

_Even though he was only joking around with her, he was curious about this person; not a lot of people caught Jo’s attention. After having worked here for eight years Jo had seen all types, but rarely did she mention them to Dean. However, one day let it slip, totally by accident, that he was gay. Since that day Jo had labeled herself his personal wingman… er wing woman._

_"_ _Dean I’m serious here! He’s totally your type; dark blue eyes, sexed-up black hair, deep voice – seriously this guy sounded like he ate literal fruity pebbles for breakfast. Oh, and the best part? Pretty sure he would be willing to dance the Lambada with you... all night long.” Jo nudged-nudged, winked-winked him, while actually_ giggling _. Ugh, did she really have to throw in a dance name to insinuate this guy was possibly gay._

_And fruity pebbles? Really??_

_“Damn Jo, it sounds like you’ve really found a winner there. I’m surprised you just didn’t whore me out to him right then and there,” Dean let out a yelp as Jo’s hand made contact with the back of his head again. Reaching back he rubbed the sore spot, grumbling about women and PMS._

_“Geez, take a joke will ya. I was just messing with you… so blue eyes, sexed-up hair, and willing to do some_ dirty dancing _. Gotcha. Did you happen to catch his name there, Sherlock?” Dean ducked this time, barely missing another hit._

_He wasn’t gonna know his own name by the end of this conversation._

_“No, I didn’t,_ Deeeean. _That’s your job; I’m just the observer here. So just keep your eyes peeled okay because he can’t be_ that _hard to miss.” Jo punched his arm just as they were signaled to perform. Between Jo and dancing, it was a miracle he wasn’t painted in bruises._

*

Getting out of the tub, the water having had gone cold quicker than he had wished, he dried off and fell into bed.

Clothing was optional.

*

Dean entered the lodge at seven o’clock the next night, finding it odd that Crowley had scheduled them at the last minute; usually, it was Becky and Chuck who would have been performing. His black garment bag bounced off the back of his legs as he strode in the direction of his dressing room, figuring he had at least 45 minutes before Jo and he would be called for their curtain call. Rounding the corner, he nearly ran into… an incredibly angry Jo.

The air crackled with the intensity bouncing off her, if he had had enough common sense, he would have made a run for it. It would appear that trait didn’t just miss him; it avoided him like the fucking plague.

“You wanna explain to me why my Sammy came to me crying his poor puppy dog eyes out. He wouldn’t tell me what happened exactly but knowing you Winchesters I’m sure _you_ have something to do with it,” Jo glared at him, looking like a tigress protecting her cub.

Dean raised an eyebrow in confusion, because “ _my_ Sammy” was a new thing.

He also hadn’t seen Sam since they got here which annoyed the fuck out of him. So, to hear that his brother was in distress really pissed him off, because he went to _Jo_ and not his older brother.

He stated this to Jo, who then appeared to relax just the slightest; her hackles were still on edge.

“Even if that is the case, I don’t like the idea of Sam hurting… So fix it, you jerk, instead of going around picking fights with Crowley,” Jo glared at him, daring him to deny the fact. “Or so help me God, if I find out that Crowley’s being rough on him because of _your_ big fucking mouth, I will kick your ass six ways to Sunday.

“So, the only thing I wanna hear out of your mouth is that you’re going to go talk to Crowley. We clear on that? Crystal? Good.

“Now. Go. Apologize,” she snapped out each word as strut off toward her dressing room, leaving Dean in her dust.

He watched her go until he realized he was standing in the hallway, alone. With a heavy sigh, Dean followed her, entering the room beside Jo’s, his being slightly smaller than hers. Hanging his bag over the rectangular full-length, stand-alone mirror, he plopped down in the chair in front of his vanity.

Turning to his left he stared at his reflection, bright peridot green eyes were now dull and lifeless, fair skin now even paler than usual. His dirty blonde hair could really go for a trim, the feather-soft strands coming close to being Sam’s length, but he probably had some time before it got _that_ bad. He remembered he had shaved when he rubbed hands over his face, the stubble prickling in the downward drag.

With a groan, he took off his black combat boots and socks, and then stood up, not ready for this shit, but he had to make money, and this was the only way that _that_ was gonna happen.

Slipping out of his favorite pair of jeans, the ones that were faded with worn-out patches, he pulled off his loose fitted AC/DC shirt, the black one with the logo nearly washed out, hints of a “D” the only remainder. Looking at the garment bag he groaned again.

_I don’t wanna do this!_ He inwardly whined as he unzipped the bag.

*

Stepping out onto the floor was always the worst; the lights were too bright, and the crowd was too loud.

Giving Jo’s hand a reassuring squeeze (more for himself than her), he stepped over the right side of the floor, watching her make her way down and stopping at the left corner. Her candy apple red creased dress fell just above her ankle, the waist wrapped in a high-waisted cummerbund that started just under her breasts. The V-neckline was subtle, the sleeveless straps thick. She dropped her head shyly while he clenched and unclenched his hands nervously. They had always done fast numbers for the guests, Chuck and Becky the slow ones. Luckily they had been practicing this number off and on for a while. The air in the room was electric; these people were excepting an encore of last night.

The opening notes, played by an electric keyboard, filled the room, sending a hush through the crowd. Jo looked up at him before walking, then running toward him. He mimicked her moves, stopping just short of reaching her as she ran into his open arms. To the audience they danced as lovers, pushing and pulling, giving, and taking.

At one point in their dance, Jo faced the crowd, sensually rubbing her hands down her chest and stomach, letting her arms fall to her side. It was then that she noticed a mop of familiar black unruly hair, but instead of a short male beside him, it was a shorter female. At that moment Dean came up behind her, grabbing for her hand, which was her cue to spin around to face him.

Jo walked forward while Dean went back until he stopped, and she leaned toward him, one leg stretched behind her, the other keeping her grounded. When Dean wrapped his arm around her in support, she lowered her leg, giving into him.

“He’s here, out in the crowd, but he’s not with midget man this time. He’s actually with a girl and they seem pretty cozy,” Jo whispered quickly in his ear before leaning back, using her right leg to push him away.

Dean scanned the crowd, looking for anyone that fit Jo’s previous description. He had stopped listening after he had heard “he’s here.” There, amongst a group of teenagers, stood a boy that paled in comparison to the picture he had mentally painted.

His black hair was rumbled as if someone had recently been yanking on it in a fit of passion. The disheveled look on anyone else would have looked messy and unkempt, but this boy made it look good.

Maybe _too_ good. 

Beside him was a girl with wavy brown hair and a pale round face, who leaned in close to say something to him. He threw back his head and laughed.

Dean swore right then and there he wanted to keep that look on that boy’s face.

He also longed to hear that laugh, to be the one that caused it.

A twinge of jealously flared inside of him, something that felt so foreign to him he almost didn’t recognize it.

He wondered if maybe she was the source of that unruly hair.

Yep, there it was. Big ‘ol green-eyed-monster.

The boy’s blue eyes were bright, sparkling with mirth; they held clarity of the highest quality sapphire. Dean could imagine himself staring into those blue cerulean orbs, could imagine himself growing old and content just spending his days doing nothing but that.

Something caught his attention when the boy turned to his left to say something to the girl, the light bouncing off the silver piece. He couldn’t make out the detail but did notice that a piece dangled down past his jaw, the silver going up the side of his ear, stopping ¼ from the very tip.

It was then that Dean decided no matter what, he was going to find out more about the mysterious boy.

*

Finishing up their dance with a move that had taken a week and a half to perfect, Jo got behind Dean and wrapped her right leg around his, holding on to his chest for dear life. Feeling his hand on her leg, she let go and began to lean to the left while lifting her leg. Once she was, what would appear to be, horizontally suspended behind Dean, he lifted his arms up while she stretched her arms out over her head. 

Searching the crowd Jo found him once again, taking note that as the crowd erupted into applause his eyes were fixed on Dean. He was slack-jawed in wonderment, ignoring his companion who, for the better, looked bored and annoyed.

Dean then turned at his waist, scooping her up into his arms and carrying it to the back. Once they were in the hallway he let her down. Jo pulled him into a bear hug when her feet touched the ground. He looked at her confused; sure the dance had come off flawlessly, but really?

“What the fuck, Jo? Ugh, get _off_ me!” Dean pushed her away, trying to keep her at arm’s length. “What’s gotten into you huh? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this… clingy? Besides what happened to you being pissed at me two hours ago?”

Jo, finally calming down enough to stop molesting him, bit her bottom lip turning almost shy like. “Well, I may have overreacted about the whole Sam thing. I know how you can be when it comes to Crowley and that you’d never do anything to hurt Sam intentionally. Don’t think that means you’re going to get out of talking to him though. Also, I _think_ I saw Mister Misterioso staring at you during our final move.” She nudged Dean in the ribs, clicking her teeth while winking.

He blinked for a second and then scoffed at her. “I really think you’ve lost it because _I_ for one don’t care, he’s way out of my league anyway. Rich kids like him don’t hang out with people like us.”

Jo rolled her eyes up at him, “Oh ye of little faith, he was staring at you like you were the last piece of pie on the buffet table.” It was Dean’s turn to roll his eyes. “Just trust me, Dean! You’ll see I’m right soon enough.” Jo winked once again and went into her dressing room, closing the door before he could respond.

She really had a thing for getting the last word in.

Curiously, Dean went to see if he could find the dark-haired boy, only to find the entire crowd had dwindled down to nothing more than an elderly couple sitting at a table at the far corner of the room. Sighing, he ducked back into his dressing room to grab his clothes and headed back to the cabin, his thoughts on Sam and Crowley. His thoughts of mussed up black hair would have to wait.

*

Crowley had always been easy to find, the son of a bitch hardly ever left his office. To Dean, it was like an edge of Hell he never wanted to step foot in. Gathering up all his anger he shoved it deep down, remembering what Jo had said a couple of nights ago. He had not gotten a chance to talk to Sam which only confirmed his fears and her words. Knocking his knuckles loudly on the office door, he waited impatiently for acknowledgment.

Hearing a muffled “come in,” Dean entered the room trying his best to be calm and collected.

The office had always given him creeps.

The dark walnut wood which blanketed the entire room from surface to surface, made the room appear smaller and enclosed. A chair railing two feet from the floor ran across the room, below it an overlay panel wainscoting, creating a lavish effect. The wall to the right of Crowley’s executive style desk doubled as a bookshelf, one that was filled to the gills with books of various sizes and colors. A few of the books rested on Crowley’s desk, held between two book holders, a retro-style secretary lamp opposite. Centered in the left wall was a bay window that overlooked the front of the lodge, giving the perfect view of the courtyard below. On the window seat perched a familiar female, seemingly lost as she stared outside.

Dean made his way over to Crowley’s desk, his heavy boots echoing in the eerily quiet room. Crowley never looked up, the girl ignored him. Stopping in front of the desk, he coughed in hopes of gaining someone’s attention, he _had_ knocked after all.

Finally finishing up what appeared to be a contract of some sort; Crowley raised his gaze upward to Dean, who had taken to leaning on the piece of furniture nonchalantly.

“So, what do we owe the pleasure of your presence, Winchester?” asked Crowley, putting as much sarcasm into the question as possible. The bags under his eyes and the wrinkles that were pressed into his forehead were in no way close to portraying the stress he was under.

His sister, Lilith, had made it clear that Meg was here as a form of punishment for constantly running away. Meg had told him she was just “skilled at escaping Hell.” On top of that, he had to deal with a company, R. Roman Enterprises, who wanted to buy the land he had spent _YEARS_ working on to form his resort. The last thing he needed right now was to hear this particular Winchester bitching and moaning.

Dean pushed away from the desk and rubbed the back of his neck; even though he was pissed he needed to keep a level head and appearing passive had always helped him to win people over.

“I know we had that little… _argument_ a week ago, and I just wanted to let you know that I’m… sorry,” Dean cringed inwardly. He hated apologizing, especially to someone like Crowley. “Also, if we could keep shi – stuff like this between us, that would be awesome. Sammy doesn’t need to be getting dragged into this, he’s a good kid with a bright future, so don’t group him in with people like me.”

He stared at the eldest Winchester confused. Not once in the 6 years of his employment had he ever heard Dean apologize for _anything_! Even the time he accidentally hit a guest in the head with his dress shoe; all he could say was “I’m BATMAN” and run away laughing. The other confusing part was what he had said about his brother because honestly, he liked having Moose around. The youngster was everything his brother wasn’t, and that alone was reason enough.

“Dean I appreciate you coming in here, tail between your legs, but you do not need to come to your brother’s defense. I’m ignoring the apology bit because we all know it was total bollocks, so between you and me, that conversation never happened,” Crowley took a sip of whiskey before continuing. “As for my ‘punishing’ Moose, I haven’t done a damn thing to him. Contrary to what you might think, I actually respect your brother, and the thought of using your fuck up against him had never occurred to me.”

Pushing his back his chair and standing, Crowley came around to stand at the corner of his desk. “Now if that’s all you came to say, I think we’re done here.” Reaching for his glass he finished off the rest of the whiskey before gathering his papers and heading for the door.

Opening it he looked back at his niece. “Meg, I trust you’ll see Mr. Winchester on his way won’t you?” Not waiting for a reply he stepped out, closing the door behind him.

“You know what Meg; I think I can see my own way out so I’ll just…” Dean inched back towards the door as he spoke, looking anywhere but at her. All he wanted to do was get the hell away from the girl who was giving him some bad mojo vibes. There was also the possibility that she had a thing for a boy he may like. Any way…

He placed his hand on the doorknob and slowly turned it…

“Wait a minute there Winchester; we need to have a little girl-to-girl chat.” Meg turned to look at him, standing up from her spot in front of the window, her weight shifted from one leg, arms folded across her chest.

“Have you been sniffing Crowley’s sharpie collection? We don’t have a damn thing to tal-“

Meg stalked across the room and covered his mouth with her hand, the rest of his sentence coming out muffled. “We certainly _do_ have something to talk about, Freckles. You see I have this friend, Clarence, and it would appear he has a man-crush on a certain dancer, and I don’t appreciate it. So here’s how this is going to work: First off, you’re gonna ignore him. I know it’ll be hard for a whore like you, but if you value your brother’s employment here, as well as your own, you’ll be sure to do as I say.

“Second, this stays between us. Crowley doesn’t need to go getting involved with this. He gets involved and Clarence’s well-kept secret comes out. His secret comes out; I’ll have your head on a mother fucking platter. I’m willing to overlook his little –problem - as long as it gets me away from my family. So don’t push me, Winchester. Stay. Away. From Him. Got it?”

Dean nodded. Meg’s hand slipped from his mouth to his cheek, giving it a rough pat. “Good boy, now run along, and don’t forget what I said.”

He turned the door handle he had been gripping the whole time, and backed out of the room, closing the door behind him. Slinking down the stairs and out the door, he set out to find Sam. Meg’s words still nagged him, and he honestly had no intention of pushing her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Smiths - Unloveable  
> Chris De Burgh - Lady in Red
> 
> [Dean and Jo's Dance](https://youtu.be/ravvjv3MFwE)


	5. And That's the Oldest Story in the World

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean twirled her around before grasping her waist with both hands and grinding behind  
> 
> 
> _Would you look at him_  
>  _I've heard about him_  
>  _But I never dreamed_  
>  _He'd have blue eyes and blue jeans_  
> 
> 
> While Dean looked around for his angel, Jo tilted her head back, eyes closed.
> 
> “He’s gone. Slipped out right when we started.”
> 
> “DAMMIT, JOANNA BETH!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _“Those who were seen dancing were thought to be insane by those who could not hear the music.”_   
>  **Friedrich Nietzsche**

**June 20, 1988**  
Sam had been a mess for the past week. He had not realized how much the little… nope. Gabe would have put him in a Vulcan nerve pinch for just thinking the rest of that thought.

Little whirlwind.

Yep, Gabe had been a little whirlwind. And Sam had not realized how much he meant in his life. He had brought him something that Sam never knew existed and it was yanked away in an instant, all because of a number.

One damn number.

“Should’ve just lied about the whole goddamn thing,” he muttered as he stomped into the cabin, slamming the door behind him. Not noticing Jack, he flopped down onto the bed and burrowed his head into a pillow.

The bed dipped as his roommate sat on the edge of the bed, followed by the soothing rubbing of his back. A gentle voice whispered if he was okay, and while he wanted to roll his eyes and give a snarky rebuttal, he muttered a very unconvincing and muffled “I’m fine” into the pillow.

Jack got up from the bed and turned off the light, only to return and curl up against Sam.

“I know it’s tough right now, but it’ll get better. Just don’t keep it inside okay? You can talk to your brother, to me, or even write it down!” Jack brushed his hand up and down Sam’s arm. “However you do it doesn’t matter to me, as long you do it.”

He grasped Sam’s hand, tighten his one-armed embrace. The wall around Sam began to crack.

“I know it- it doesn’t make sense, but I- I think I was starting to lo- love him,” Sam stuttered out in between sobs.

And he continued to sob.

And Jack’s heart ached and broke.

Jack vowed to find the son of a bitch that had hurt the boy who had finally fallen asleep in his arms. No one, certainly not Sam, deserved to be hurt like this. And he would pay. And then maybe they would both be happy.

*

Castiel had been dodging Meg like Matthew Broderick avoided Northern Ireland, but he couldn’t seem to get away from her.

It was like having a second shadow. Or another Gabriel.

He had even gone back to doing dancing lessons with the Jo (he learned names now) minus Gabriel, and Meg popped up as his partner. But they didn’t have partners for this class, at least that’s what he was told…

*

Okay, he lied earlier. Dancing was fun.

He continued his poor interpretation of the Samba, wiggling away when he noticed Meg prowling toward him. Castiel smirked at the scowl that crossed her face and gave his ass a shake. And he knew his ass looked spectacular in these jeans. Not that he was wearing them for anyone in particular.

With his arms above his head, he weaved his way through the throng of students, heading toward Jo. There was no doubt about the hip shimming along the way. Or the grind he did against her.

Seeking solace underneath the tree from where he’d first seen Dean Winchester (look at him still learning names!), Castiel closed his eyes against the sun. That’s when he felt a shadow fall across him and the presence of someone sitting beside him. Internally groaning and cursing his luck, karma was paying him back for making an ass of himself just hours before. Now Meg had found him, and he was alone.

His innocence was at stake. 

“Meg I don’t mean to be harsh, but your stalkerish tendencies are boarding on _Fatal Attraction_ and it's creeping me the fuck out. So, if you would kindly walk your mental ass away, I’d appreciate it. Thanks.” Castiel felt proud of himself for telling her to get of his life. But the crazy-ass she-demon didn’t leave.

Glaring and preparing to go ballistic on her ass, he opened his eyes against the glare of the sun and…

Turned out it was Gabriel who was trying not to burst with laughter. Gabriel who’d refused to say anything because his brother was on a roll and it was just too good!

Castiel let it go just because it felt good to say all that shit aloud.

*

Laying on the grass, Castiel ignored the grass stains and Gabriel made a daisy chain crown. He dropped it on Castiel’s face (much to his chagrin.) Gabriel said it would help pollinate him, make all the big sexy bumblebees come a-buzzing.

They hadn’t had a scuffle like that in years. The dirt on their face and tears from their laughter coating both their faces, just like when they were kids. When had things changed?

*

“How have things been Gabe? I mean, like, really been. You were all over the place when we got here, I never saw you, and then… You were with Luc. And I don’t know. You just seem different. And you know I’m here for you, right? We’re brothers and have to look out for each other. I’m obligated to kick many an ass when needed,” he nudged his brother weakly while they walked along the lake.

Gabriel looked straight ahead, worrying his lip, then chewing on his cuticle.

A nervous habit of his.

His steps slowed, then sped back. Trying to escape the situation, yet the feeling of knowing that someone actually _cared_ enough to ask how he was. He wanted to tell everything about the past couple of weeks. This was Castiel after all, and Castiel was trustworthy. But right now…

“Everything is fine Cassie. Luc and I are just having some fun, nothing too serious, it’s a summer fling kind of thing. Maybe let him get to third base, ‘cos that boy just melts my chocolate. He’s the stick in my fun dip. Brings the joy to my Almond Joy. Makes me bust a nut like a – “

Castiel covered his mouth before he could finish. “OKAY! That’s enough of that. I’ll never look at candy the same way again, thank you very much. Christ on a cracker… I try to have a heartfelt moment with you, and this is what I get.”

Glad to have dodged that bullet, Gabriel licked Castiel’s hand only to annoy his younger brother. And Castiel stormed off wiping his hand on his jeans.

*

The staff cabin was set up with for their weekly shindig (a term coined by a guy named Garth) and it looked like a cowboy’s wet dream. Didn’t take two guesses to figure who’s turn it was for this week’s theme. Though it was better than the goth shit some dude named Chad/Ceadda had set up.

Adjusting one of the provided cowboy hats on his head and grabbing a beer, Dean walked the perimeter searching for Sam. The giant said he’d be here tonight and was normally punctual, to the point that he would have been here yesterday! But of course, when you actually need the squirt, he’s nowhere to be seen.

“Sonvabitch… HEY SAMMY! Get your ass back here now!”

Heads turned and Sam glowed in embarrassment. Dean was perfectly oblivious and took a pull of his beer.

“You’ve been a very social butterfly here lately Sammy. Your social calendar too full to talk to your big bro, or am I just not good enough for ya?”

No response.

Dean’s bottle became remarkably interesting and he started picking at the label to keep his hands busy. “Okay then. I see it’s gonna be like this. You’re gonna walk around acting all bitchy and crying to everyone who gives less than two shits, but when it comes to family you can’t be bothered. So, you know what Sam, next time you ever think about someone around here not loving you – “

“Dean can you just SHUT UP for a minute! I’m not ignoring you okay. I just need time to figure some stuff out. And if I seem sad, then maybe it’s because I am. But just trust me to do the right thing, and let me relax tonight, like everyone else.” He stared into Dean’s eyes, pleading. “Aren’t I allowed that one thing right now? Then we’ll talk.”

“Pinkie promise?”

"Pinkie promise.”

The deal is sealed with a hook of pinkies and being pulled into a hug.

“Bitch,” Dean muttered, but there was no reply.

Sam had already started walking away, taking on the weight on the word.

*

Castiel ran his hands over his black and white striped shirt to rid of any wrinkles. He was feeling cocky tonight in his low riding black jeans, black combat boots, and his thick-rimmed glasses. He’d decided to wear his earring and hang a chain of tiny silver beads from his belt to finish off the look.

Beside him, Gabriel was giving off a “fake it ‘til you make it” vibe. With an odd mixture of black, form-fitting slacks, black long-sleeved shirt decorated with constellations, and a gray houndstooth waistcoat, he looked put together. It was the finishing touches of his eccentric ensemble that screamed “Gabriel” - a black fedora, brown trench coat (no story about where it had come from), and a pair of red Neehi Converse (turned down.)

Grabbing his hand Castiel swung their arms between them.

_“We can dance if we want to, we can leave your friends behind. Cause your friends don't dance and if they don't dance. Well, they're no friends of mine,”_ Castiel raised an eyebrow as he sang to Gabe.

Gabe grinned and hummed a few bars to himself, _“Ah we can go when we want to. The night is young and so am I. And we can dress real neat from our hats to our feet. And surprise 'em with the victory cry.”_

_“I say we can act if we want to. If we don't nobody will. And you can act real rude and totally removed. And I can act like an imbecile.”_

_We can dance, we can dance everybody look at your hands  
We can dance, we can dance everybody takin' the chance  
Safety dance  
Oh well the safety dance  
Ah yes the safety dance_

If they skipped toward the sound of music playing, arms randomly forming an “S” sign by jerking the bottom arm upward and top arm downward, they one hundred percent, totally would not deny it.

*

“Shit! Fucking watermelons… sure have Sammy go get ‘um. Not like he’s doing anything important enough to be part of the actual party or anything… Fucking ingrate assholes,” his muttering continued as he struggled with the steroid-induced watermelons. One particular melon decided it had had enough while he crossed the path to the party and would have smashed and covered him in melon guts if someone hadn’t caught the damn thing.

“Think you lost something there… Sam.”

The voice was only a whisper and the body was way too close. And fuck those clothes needed to disappear right now, because he never knew he had a thing for waistcoats until now. And Gabe was bringing out that kink right now.

Among other things.

A watermelon was being manhandled away from him and Sam nearly dropped the only one in his possession. The boy (Gabe’s brother, Cas – he politely introduced himself) asked Sam why they happened to be standing in the middle of the path carrying three ginormous melons (Gabe snorted), and not inside with everyone else.

Gabe stared at Sam, eyes roaming his body. It would take a blind man not to notice. And it pissed Sam off.

Gabe had his chance and here he was eyeing him like a piece of meat when all he was wearing was his work outfit with a red plaid shirt over it. Sure the shirt may be a size too small, but if he…

Sam struggled with the watermelon, the overshirt straining against his arms.

He may have heard Gabe whimper as he explained about being the low man on the totem pole and having to play errand boy for the shit heads inside.

They walked and talked… Well, Sam and Castiel did. Gabriel lagged behind for some reason, but eventually caught up with them. All three were pleased to finally empty their arms at the table by the door.

Sam handed them cowboy hats and the stomping of boots shook the floor beneath them. “I know it’s kind of late, but welcome to Echo Beach!”

*

_Well, Mandy's in the backroom, handing out Valium  
Sheriff's on the airwaves, talking to the D.J.'s  
Forty-seven heartbeats beating like a drum  
Got to live it up, live it, Ronnie’s got a new gun.  
_

Castiel watched, fixated on the line of people, their feet keeping time, along with a cha-cha to the hips and a clap of their hands, as they turned to the side. His jaw dropped as the dance suddenly changed.

_Brrrr, here come a musical disc  
'Cause some people them a-keep waitin' for  
This one's called the outlaw, wow  
They want me  
Ride the rhythm like me ridin' a bike  
_

All the girls stepped forward, turning to face their counterparts (who were still dancing) and rolling their hips. In a lurching motion, they rolled their head opposite the direction of their arms, before turning to form a line. Grabbing each other’s shoulders by the left hand, they lifted their right leg and begin walking forward, thrusting forward in a humping motion.

Breaking apart, the girls paired up to continue a variation of the same dance, grinding against each other and clapping.

_Shine on me  
Murder me chatter when me chat on the mic  
Shorties thought this could keep them rockin' 'til the broad daylight  
And here comes the Escape Club to rock it all night, say_

When the song started back to its original form, the girls joined the guys and continued the former dance.

_Heading for the nineties living in the eighties  
Screaming in a backroom waiting for the big boom  
Give me give me wild west  
Give me give me safe sex  
Give me love give me love  
Give me time to live it up_

“Er… Sam. What the hell did we just see?!”

“That the was the [Tush Push](https://youtu.be/m0dVT0ppjvQ) and the [Nutbush](https://youtu.be/qf64s42Da68),” came a deep voice that was certainly not Sam’s.

Castiel spilled some of the soda he had picked up and Dean Winchester walked away in Jo’s direction without even a backward glance

_Why'd you come in here lookin' like that  
In your high heeled boots and your painted-on jeans_

They were both decked out in cowboy hats and cowboy boots. Jo looked gorgeous in her black laminated denim jeans and black crop top. But his eyes were Dean.

And because he couldn’t stand to see him dance with Jo again, not looking like he did right now. Fucking blue jeans needed paint thinner to be removed. And that Top Gun shirt was giving him the urge to go goose an ass.

So Castiel slipped out the building to save himself from an embarrassing situation.

_I just can't stand it  
To see him on the town  
He's out slow dancing  
With every girl around_

_*_

Parting enough to be able to spin Jo around, the crowd separated and caught on to the rhythm of the song. When Jo had seen who was here, she had dug through Garth’s crappy record selection settling on the lesser of _all_ evils. Because water had more taste than this crap.

Dean twirled her around before grasping her waist with both hands and grinding behind her.

_Would you look at him  
I've heard about him  
But I never dreamed  
He'd have blue eyes and blue jeans_

While Dean looked around for his angel, Jo tilted her head back, eyes closed.

“He’s gone. Slipped out right when we started.”

“DAMMIT, JOANNA BETH!”

*

He was in a tree.

His angel was in some old and decrepit creepy tree.

Well, okay it was an oak tree to be precise.

And okay he wasn’t _his_ angel, but he was an angel, and he looked to be falling asleep.

Sitting on the ground nearest his head, Dean leaned back against the harshness of the tree. “I’m kind of curious about what makes this tree so comfortable. Because from where I’m sitting, it’s a pain in the ass.”

Castiel squealed and rolled onto Dean, the older man letting out an audible “oof” from below him.

“What kind of asshole sneaks up on a guy sleeping in a tree?! What if I had… Oh, Dean… I mean… Who are you? Hi, person, I’ve never seen before, so of course, I don’t know your name – “

“It’s okay Castiel, Jo already told me everything,” Dean chuckled as the younger boy looked away nervously and clearly embarrassed despite the airs he put off. It took all his power not to turn his head back his way. “I noticed you were gone, but I never expected to find you hiding in a tree. Is this a new development, or have you always been drawn to sleeping in trees?”

“I wouldn’t call it a recent development per se, but it works in a pinch. I’m not always going to be able to find a nice, strong pair of arms to keep me off the ground…” he clapped his hands over his mouth, “yof dedn’t hear dat.”

“Mmm-hmm, absolutely. I didn’t hear anything about my strong arms holding you off the ground. Got it.” Dean ignored the cutest glare he’ll never admit seeing. Because that would mean admitting defeat to any argument, they ever got in. And he couldn’t have that.

Wait, what? Putting a pin in that thought.

“How about telling me what brought you to the party?”

Castiel dropped his hands from his mouth and slid off Dean’s lap (he did not pout.) Standing, he extended his hand to help Dean stand. “My brother and I helped someone named Sam with an errand. I carried a watermelon!”

They stared at each.

“I’m gonna shut up now.”

“How about we dance.”

“I like your suggestion. It might help mine.”

So Dean grabbed Cas and pulled him close, humming a melody for them to keep time to. Castiel had his head on Dean’s shoulder, and Dean had his arms around his waist. He felt like he was forgetting something but couldn’t be bothered to put too much thought into it.

_Would you like to hear I love you all the time  
And if you couldn't turn around without us touching, would you mind  
You know there's something missing 'round your waist  
Tell me would these arms be in your way_

*

“What is there to talk about Gabriel? You made it clear that night that you wanted nothing to do with me. Nothing’s changed in nearly two weeks, so unless you’ve come to apologize, I don’t need to hear anything from you.”

Sam glared at the shorter man, clenching and unclenching his fists to keep from yanking him into an earthshattering kiss. Or punching him in his fucking cute-as-a-button face.

Gabe chewed on his lower lip and Sam noticed how chapped it looked. “Yeah, I am sorry Sam. For everything. You didn’t deserve anything I put you through and that’s why I’m here… I wanted to let you know.”

He took a deep breath “IwantedtoletyouknowthatI’mseeingsomeoneelse.”

Sam blinked. “Say again?”

“I wanted to let you know that I’m seeing someone else.”

Sam punched him in his fucking cute-as-a-button face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Plimsouls - Oldest Story In The World  
> Men Without Hats - The Safety Dance  
> The Escape Club - Wild, Wild West  
> Dolly Parton - Why’d You Come in Here Lookin’ Like That  
> Terri Gibbs - Somebody’s Knockin’  
> Keith Whitley - Would These Arms Be In Your Way


End file.
